


Romanoff's Only Exception

by SmudgeQueen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Natasha Feels, Protective Natasha, Skye | Daisy Johnson Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3276620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmudgeQueen/pseuds/SmudgeQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both broken. Yet they seem to fit perfectly together. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps everyone in the world, no matter how skeptic and flawed, does have a counterpart to help them breathe. It just so happened Skye and the Black Widow were an unlikely, perfect fit.<br/>(Story is also available on FF.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff was perceptive. Her job required so, her training had made her so.

It had been only 6 days since she’d joined Coulson’s team on the plane and, while for most people that wouldn’t be nearly enough to make an accurate reading of someone, she already knew how to handle everyone. She’d picked the tiny, seemingly unimportant, bits of information everyone tends to ignore, had assessed them from a distance, looked for facial cues, body language, routines and was extremely confident, if she wanted, she knew exactly how to manipulate each member of the team, how to make them tick. It wasn’t for just any reason she was considered the best spy, master of manipulation, seduction and stealth. She would infiltrate, retrieve any information from anywhere and anyone and leave, most times without anyone figuring out what had happened and, on occasion, when necessary, killing without leaving a trail. She was feared, she was a legend and she knew it. She, who could in a split second go from being the innocent, almost childlike, Yelena Belova, to being the skilled dominatrix, Ebon Flame. She, who could go from being the brilliant, assertive lawyer, Natalie Rushman, to being the dedicated, playful kindergarten teacher, Laura Matthers, to being the deathly Black Widow. She, who could in less than a breath be anyone in the world… and then nothing – detached, cold, unreadable, impenetrable, unafraid and terrifying for her impressive threshold of pain, for her stillness. On some rare occasions, of required social interaction, on her real life, that actually represents about 5% of her existence, she got to be Natasha Romanoff, someone she doesn’t know, someone she isn’t sure she can define as ‘herself’ – it’s hard to tell, not because the name is nothing but a similar form of her real name, but because she doesn’t quite remember a time when she had the opportunity to just be. She can’t tell if Natasha is truly who she is or if she just picks pieces from every persona she’s acted and mixes them into one. For that reason it’s easier for her, it’s less tiring, to detach and remain impassive and seemingly threatening than having to do the effort to switch and become yet another person she isn’t sure is real, someone who will only add to her identity confusion. So it’s been 6 days on the bus and she’s kept her distance, doing what she does best – assessing, gathering data. She doesn’t categorize it as spying – these are her allies after all – but, instead, as remaining neutral and at the ready for anything. Yes, that’s something else she’s learned from a young age – never to truly trust anyone, not even her allies… especially her allies. She knows very well where her loyalties lie – she fights for the good guys, it has been that way for the longest time, but past experiences dug deep and for her, to survive means to suspect. During these 6 days Natasha Romanoff observed, looked for suspicious demeanor and learned everyone on this bus; everyday she adds more to her assessment, confirming it, and every day she grows increasingly intrigued by one particular agent, Skye. Natasha calls it intrigued for the lack of a better description because even if she’s mastered every little emotion to the tiniest micro expression, even if she can act anything, convince anyone she’s finding supreme pleasure in the most excruciating torture, that she’s helplessly in love with a target who means absolutely nothing, she still doesn’t understand the true meaning of most feelings and emotions, particularly those who are mostly abstract, with no clear lines – she’s practically never felt them ‘herself’, she can’t recognize them and name them easily. Or maybe, for her own sake, it’s just easier to convince herself she can’t. Maybe it’s how she’s learned to cope.

“Hey, we’re about to have dinner. Care to join us?” Natasha heard Skye asking her. Truth be told, she’d heard her approaching, but decided to remain unmoving on the couch.

“Thank you. I think I’ll just grab something later if I’m hungry,” she offered politely, compiling a small smile in retribution to what she knew had been a mix of kindness and curiosity. Skye had been trying to get information from her, anything. It was amusing.

“Oh…” Disappointment, Natasha read. “Okay then.”

The spy expected the young woman to just retreat, instead she went around the couch and sat right next to her, completely at ease, feet propped up and lively, daring smile. There was a reason, after all, why she found Skye intriguing – the brunette was unpredictable and persistent, most importantly she had this raw fierceness about her that Natasha knew could only come from a past of sheer struggle. In some odd way, there was a hint of familiarity in Skye’s eyes, not that she’d interpreted it in this particular way just yet.

“I thought you were going to have dinner,” Natasha stated, smiling slightly but not bothering to look at the other agent. Instead she let her head fall back to rest on the couch and closed her eyes.

“Right. No. Jemma’s not even decided what she’s going to prepare tonight,” Skye told her, shrugging. “I just really wanted your company.”

Natasha opened her eyes. She wasn’t frowning. In fact, her face, as usual, showed nothing except what she wanted to show, but the truth was… she was frowning internally. She turned her head to the left, still in apparent mellow relaxation, and looked at Skye, who stared.

“My company or the code access to my full, unclassified, personal files?” she asked, slightly playfully, raising a suspicious eyebrow that was in fact sure of the girl’s intent.

Skye slouched and huffed. “Spies are no fun!” she proclaimed in annoyance.

Natasha laughed, finally lifting her head and straightening herself. “So you admit it?”

“Like I could hide it from you anyway…” Skye shrugged. “Besides, now I can ask you why is it that you don’t want us to know anything about you.”

Boldness.

“Not anything. You know my name and what I do for a living.”

“And yet I’m only sure of one of those two.”

Natasha smiled. “What is it you wanted to know about me?” she offered. It didn’t mean she would give it to her, but at least she could amuse herself if she fed the curiosity just enough.

“Really?” the brunette asked beaming. It was adorable, honestly and Natasha could only give her credit for not cowering before her as most people did. It made her feel something within her, as if she actually wanted to engage, as if she was…a little herself. “You mean I can ask ANY thing?” Skye asked suspiciously but gleaming, still. She immediately kneeled on the couch facing the red haired spy, as if something undeniably exciting was about to transpire.

Natasha gave her a curt nod, her smile reaching her eyes. Perhaps she would indulge the young woman. Perhaps.

“Where were you born?” Skye asked tentatively.

“In Russia, Stalingrad. It is now known as Volgograd, though,” Natasha offered promptly. “But you already knew that.” She added when Skye nodded and didn’t offer a comment. She looked more pleased than surprised.

“I had to verify you were actually planning on being honest here,” she said simply, already trying to decide what to ask next.

Her innocence, her genuineness was remarkable in Natasha’s eyes.

“Okay, uhm, how old are you?” the brown eyed woman asked slowly as if she was still trying to decide if that was the question she wanted to ask.

“32,” Natasha replied, turning her body completely in order to sit facing the younger woman, fully interested in learning Skye better, in learning her reactions and somewhat comic facial expressions.

Skye looked at her with suspicion, staring at her green, now warm and entertained eyes, before she finally spoke. “How old are you, really? Because you do look young and wicked beautiful, but Stalingrad seized to exist in 1961. That makes you AT LEAST 53. There’s no way you’re 53.”

“Looks like you did your homework,” Natasha praised. Not everyone was perceptive enough to catch that detail, although she already knew Skye wouldn’t fall into that category of people.

“Just some research based on what I had, which isn’t much anyway.”

Natasha nodded.

“So, how old are you?” Skye pressed, not really bothering with politeness regarding age asking.

“Let’s just say I’m old.”

Skye rolled her eyes. “Come on! I already know you’re either an alien or at least you have some kind of power to stay young, I’m not asking which it is or what it is that causes this, just the age!” she protested. “Please?” she begged, mustering her best puppy face.

Natasha shook her head, smiling mischievously.

“Please, please? I’ll do anything you want!”

Natasha laughed whole heartedly, surprising even herself. She finally nodded, “No more questions though,” she imposed.

“Urgh…” Skye slouched, rolling her eyes. “Fiiine…”

“I’m 89.”

Skye’s eyes shot open so fast and so wide, Natasha actually thought they would pop out. “Holy shit!” the young woman let out, her mouth hanging open. “You’ve gotta be the oldest woman alive to still be having sex!” she said in all her seriousness, as if she was truly impressed.

Natasha chuckled.

Natasha never chuckled unless she was impersonating. Then again, she didn’t usually come across people like Skye. She didn’t even have a life, let alone someone who actually made her feel less of a black hole.

“How do you know I’m still having sex?” Natasha asked just for amusement.

“Aren’t you?” Skye blushed. “I mean… look at you? Who wouldn’t want to… ya know…”

Natasha bit her lower lip slowly, holding Skye’s gaze with her own, enjoying herself, knowing she was causing the young brunette to squirm. The young woman was already beet red and Natasha couldn’t be more in her new favorite element, making people… well, Skye, uncomfortable in a positive, entertaining way.

“Okay, hum… anyway…” Skye coughed, finally breaking eye contact with Natasha. “I, uh…” she stuttered as she got up from the couch unnaturally, nearly tripping all over herself in the process. “I’m going to… help Jemma,” she said, glancing quickly at the red haired woman while pointing at a random point in the living room area of the plane. “With dinner,” she added barely whispering.

“Mm mmm,” Natasha hummed. “I might join you after all,” she decided. The spy figured maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to start mingling. If not for anything else, then at least to enjoy Skye.

 _Enjoy_ … she mused.


	2. Chapter 2

_It’s a small world. It’s a red world._

_She doesn’t fully remember how she came to be there. She doesn’t understand why Ivan, her foster father, had just suddenly, on her 5 th birthday, led her and 25 other girls her age into that place – Department X, she remembers the sign._

_Natalia looked around. For some reason she couldn’t seem to move anything but her head. She was having a hard time breathing, her mouth wouldn’t open and she desperately needed to suck in the air. She blinked, trying to see clearer but it was so hard… it was so hard making out what was what. Her body ached and she looked up, frowning at her tightly bound small wrists. Her eyes opened wide and her heart exploded into a frenzy. She fought hard to try and loosen the bounds but the more she struggled the tighter they became. She groaned, the searing pain in her body finally being fully noticed._

_That had been her first beating. On the day after her 5 th birthday. It had become a routine after that, all the way until the day she became an active NOC and really learned why she’d been in the Red Room and that she was a human killing machine designed by KGB. _

_When she was finally put down that day no one explained why she’d been beaten. She didn’t ask. She came to learn there was never a reason, it just so happened. It was to toughen them up, the leader would say, to make them obedient soldiers, indifferent to the body’s weaknesses, indestructible, incorruptible._

_She quickly learned she’d never return home. That was her new living arrangement._

_Less than a year into her training she had already made herself forget about a past life where she’d been treated very differently. She learned that in order to survive she’d have to do whatever they wanted. At first it was mostly beatings and interrogations, teaching them not to reveal some piece of information, anything really. Then she got exceptionally good at being tortured, she wouldn’t even blink anymore, and so her conditioning training became more intensive, happening often under and going far beyond exhaustion… agility training, speed training, endurance training… later on she was introduced to martial arts and she was a natural, the training in acrobatics provided a complementary kick she mixed naturally into her combat style, making her quick, versatile and unpredictable. At the same time she’d been learning languages, and there was no option but excellence in that room. Provide or be killed. She was fluent in more languages than any 10 year old outside that room. Stealth was Natalia’s personal favorite, she just loved being able to creep up on people without them noticing, it made her feel empowered – she could do anything she wanted. By the time she was 11 she was a master of manipulation, she was cunning and brilliant in her acting, perfectly brainwashed into knowing that seduction and sex were the most powerful tools in the game of espionage. Natalia could also infiltrate any building. She was a skilled climber and proficient with various firearms. At 12 she too conquered knife throwing, properly weighted knives made specifically for this reason and any other knife of any weight and size. With that came her first kill. She’d been ordered to kill one of the other girls, the least skilled of the lot – teaching her that attachment is hindrance. A fight to the death. It was the survival of the fittest. Do or die. After that first kill she started being sent out in missions, accompanying senior agents – that’s when she learned the world wasn’t red as the academy she’d been locked in for the past 7 years. No, the world was a giant, explosive headache of colors and shades unknown. The world’s brightness hurt her. Red was her safety, red was her rule, red was her only option – red walls, red curtains, red furniture, red clothes, red hair, red lamps, red lights, red food, red ink. She even dreamed in red. Red was truth, everything else was a threat. By the time she was 14 and WWII broke in 1939, she was ready, a finished project. Her mission: Terminate. Kill and paint the world red. And just like that she became KGB’s deadliest – ironically, the Black Widow._

Natasha woke up abruptly, taking a sharp intake of breath. It was the first time in a very long time that she dreamed of that particular time frame in such detail. In a swift movement she got out of her bed and walked, barefoot to the kitchen area of the plane.

“Jesus! Fuck!” Natasha hears someone shrieking the minute she turns the light on. She stands, looking with a blank face as Skye brings her hands to her chest, glaring at Natasha. “You scared me!”

“Took you a long time,” Natasha darts out, smirking.

“How the fuck do you get all the way here without making a fucking, shitty noise!?” Skye ignores her comment. “Fucking spies…”

“I assure you we’re louder in bed,” Natasha jokes, knowing plenty well the young brunette would turn a deep shade of red. For some reason she enjoys it.

Skye coughs loudly, averting her gaze. “You don’t seem like you’re the loud type,” she eventually lets out. “More like the quieter, passionate kind.”

Natasha calmly takes a sip from a glass of water and raises her eyebrow. Not because Skye has clearly debated about her sexual profile, but because, once again, she didn’t judge and just assume whips and paddles.

“I could tell you, but I’m pretty sure you want to figure that one out by yourself,” the older woman winked. It didn’t even take a spy to figure out Skye was attracted to her body.

“I do not!” Skye protested nervously.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” Natasha told her with smugness all over her face. “What are you doing up?”

She completely changes the topic. Sex was just sex. For Natasha it was a tool, a work instrument sometimes necessary to dig deeper and retrieve the whole piece of intel she wanted. Sex was impersonal, a mastered chore and it was so easy for her to seduce and bed her targets into spilling everything she wanted to know she couldn’t but consider it a weakness. Sex meant nothing and she certainly couldn’t understand the hype. Sure it felt good on occasion, but it didn’t justify the desperateness she saw in her targets, the foolishness with which they put their lives at risk just for the sake of fucking someone – it was all so unnatural, so predictable. And though sex doesn’t bother her, though she’s comfortable being daring, she knows even if Skye is the first one to make a sexual joke, there’s insecurity in her regarding that subject. Natasha doesn’t like to assume why and so she doesn’t, but she’s not willing to make the young woman become too self-conscious, so when Skye’s body language changes to something she recognizes as anxiety, Natasha changes the topic.

“I usually stay up late,” the brunette tells her, resting her elbows on the counter and playing with the rim of her glass. “What about you?”

“I don’t usually sleep much.” She isn’t lying. She doesn’t want to lie.

Skye nods, shifting her weight on the chair and looking up to glance at the other woman, whose eyes are trained on her. “It must be hard. I’m sure you’ve seen pretty ugly stuff. I wouldn’t sleep either.”

The spy doesn’t react to Skye’s comment. Instead she shapes the conversation to fit her own interest. “Do you stay up late because of something ugly you’ve seen?” Natasha knows perfectly well the reason why Skye avoids sleeping is because of Agent Ward, she’s heard her screaming in her sleep, she’s heard Fitz-Simmons talking about it. But the Russian doesn’t press. It’s another new thing for her because normally she would just be blunt about it. She’s finding, however, previous experiences seldom seem to apply to Skye. She feels protective of the younger Agent.

She’s never felt protective of anyone.

“Yeah. You could say that.” Skye sighs. “So, anyway, how long are you staying with us? Coulson never said anything,” Skye asks, diverting her gaze. She has a feeling Agent Romanoff knows more than she’s letting out, but she can’t be sure and she really doesn’t feel like finding out.

Natasha smiles with a hint of playfulness and leans against the side of the fridge. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

Skye shrugs. “Just wondering about your Avengers team.”

“What about it?”

“Don’t you have business with them?” the brunette presses.

Natasha knows there’s something else bothering the younger Agent by the way she’s moving and catching her lips. Skye is debating something. Still, she replies, being as evasive as she can as to frustrate the younger woman into really spilling the beans. “I’m a great multitasker.”

“Natasha?”

 _Finally._ The red haired woman lifts her brows and sets her glass down on the counter, straightening her back, readying herself for what will certainly be an emotion-filled question. “Mmm,” she hums simply, letting Skye know she’s listening but conveying she’s not all that eager to participate in the exchange any further.

“Why do you hide?”

Natasha actually frowns and resists the urge to cross her arms. Instead she refuge in an apple, grabbing it without hesitation from the fruit bowl between her and Skye and taking a bite. “What do you mean?” she asks, as she swallows the piece of apple in her mouth.

“Why do you keep up a mask when everyone else is around?” Skye wants to know. She’s noticed the spy can be so much different when no one else is watching. She doesn’t understand what she’s so afraid of. What intrigues her the most is why she seems like she’s more at ease with her, but not the rest of the team. It’s not like the two of them have much shared experience. If anything Agent Romanoff should feel more uncomfortable around her, see her as a liability, as May once saw her.

“What makes you think **_this_** isn’t the real mask?” Natasha asks her as if it’s the most obvious thing. As if she’s too dumb she hasn’t noticed before.

Skye swallows in embarrassment. “Oh… okay.” There she was again, being a fool. She’s gotten too comfortable in this bus that even after she was played by Ward she can no longer see everyone else may very well be doing the same. Her eyes fall again and she misses the moment when Natasha’s soften.

“I can’t say this,” the red haired woman waved in front of her face before she developed, “isn’t a mask right now. But it is one I wouldn’t mind keeping if I could.”

Skye looks up at the red haired woman, trying to read her, but her eyes can be so cryptic she feels exhausted and confused by her. This is an algorithm she’s yet to master. “Why not just be truthful about yourself?”

“That would probably mean I knew who that is,” Natasha tells her promptly. Her voice sounds huskier than usual as she conveys the honesty in her words. “Plus,” she continues. “I’m going to explain it to you as I once explained to Rogers, the truth is a matter of circumstance. It’s not all things, to all people, all the time. Neither am I.”

“Okay,” Skye tells her simply, with one strong nod. And then she smiles, happy with the reply because she’s sure the spy wasn’t lying.

“Are you always this complacent?” Natasha jokes, smiling back.

“Not quite, no. I guess I just like who you are with me, even if that’s another lie,” the brunette admits, softly.

“Does that bother you?”

“That it may be a lie?” Natasha nods, staring at big brown eyes trying to absorb hers. “Is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I guess I don’t care anyway. It’s not like I’m not used to people using me and leaving me.”

“You know that will happen eventually, right?” Natasha feels guilty, but it’s just the way it is. She can never stay for long. It will just be a matter of time until a mission pulls her away for months or until she feels the need to run.

Skye shrugs. “Like I said, the people I care about always leave and you’re definitely not the type who stays long.”

Natasha raises her brow.

“Oh please… You have commitment issues written all over your face,” Skye teases.

Natasha laughs, but doesn’t reply. She doesn’t have to. She doesn’t need to confirm what Skye already figured out.

“So… how fast could you kill me right now exactly?” the brunette asks out of the blue, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Considering your obvious lack of training?” Natasha ponders. “2 to 3 seconds.”

Skye gulps. “How about you help me get that to 10 minutes?”

“Survive the Black Widow for 10 whole minutes?” Natasha smiles, impressed.

Skye nods.

“You realize I’m not going to downgrade my level to make it easier on you, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“I suppose it could be fun.” Natasha smirks.

“Beating up someone?”

“Yeah.” Natasha shrugs with a grin.

“You have a terrible sense of fun Natasha.”

The spy smiles and she’s left with the sense her facial muscles are getting a workout they’re not used to.

“It’s not everyday people volunteer to let me take them down!” Agent Romanoff states simply.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

The spy shrugs not bothering to hide her enthusiasm. “Probably.”


	3. Chapter 3

Much to Skye’s surprise, training with Natasha hadn’t turned out to be as painful as she thought it would be. Perhaps because the spy was taking her time with her pupil. Yes they would spar, but mostly Natasha was helping the younger Agent to build endurance. It would then be easier to make combat lessons last longer, thus, more productive.

“Come on,” Natasha called Skye. “To the mattresses.”

“I swear if you push me any harder today I’m going to collapse right here,” Skye panted. She’d been doing jumping drills. Natasha claimed not only would they help her condition her heart but they’d also come in handy when she had to make her escape and jump through obstacles or over walls.

“You’ll be thanking me when you’re in a situation where you need all the endurance you’re building. It’s quite simply the difference between pushing yourself to fight and giving up.”

Skye nodded and followed the red haired Agent to the center of the training room, to the mattresses.

“What are we going to practice?”

“Hand to hand combat,” the spy said. “The very basics of it. And first off… stance and footwork.” Natasha approached Skye and assessed her posture. “Give me a box stance. Now… in a real battle everything is game, you mix and match your qualities to upper your game and make it less predictable to your enemy, but right now you need a foundation, discipline.”

Skye adjusted her posture, widening the distance between her feet, left foot forward.

Natasha took her right arm and pressed it tightly against the younger Agent’s chest.

“Make sure you keep your elbow against your chest. Remember, elbow protects the ribcage, the fist protects your chin. Keep your head down so that even if you’re throwing a punch with your left, your shoulder protects your chin. Give it a try, punch my hand.”

Skye looked at Natasha’s hand and focused before she attempted the punch.

“How does that feel?”

“I don’t know. It’s awkward.”

“Exactly. You’re stiff. Don’t plant your back foot on the floor, it’s going to slow your movement and you’ll be better off punching a marshmallow. The ball of your foot is enough, move your hips when you punch, keep your face low and your arms up. Go,” she explained

Skye punched tentatively. “Yeah that feels better.”

Natasha nodded. “Again.” They repeated the exercise until Skye’s arms started to give in.

“Getting warmed up? Now with movement,” the red haired Agent said. “I’m going to be your moving target, you try to hit my face. Come on babe, if you land me a punch I owe you one.”

Skye lifted her brow in suspicion. “And what if I don’t?”

“We’ll see about that later.”

“That’s so not fair.”

“Less talking..:”

“More punching, yeah, yeah…” Skye muttered.

“Stop!” Natasha let out after a few attempts. “You’re losing your balance. When you move you always have to compensate the distance of your feet, otherwise I can easily throw you down. Step and slide, Skye,” Natasha told her, showing her herself how to move around more efficiently. “If you move your front foot backward 10 inches, your back foot will also have to move backward 10 inches. You’re just stepping all over yourself, if a bird lands on you you’re going to tip over,” Natasha mocked playfully. “Try again.”

“Better! Again! Try to hit me.”

“Trust me, right now I do have the motivation to hit you. “ Skye smirked.

“Skye where did I tell you to hit me?”

“The face!” she breathed out, as she attempted to punch Natasha.

“Exactly. Why are you jab – crossing then?”

“What?” Skye stopped, static, panting. “How else am I supposed to do it?”

“You jab at the face, you cross to the stomach. Here let’s try it a couple of times so you understand. Jab to the face, get lower and aim to the stomach with a cross and as you lift yourself up, hook to the face and uppercut to the chin. Slow motion it for me.”

“Okay.” Skye nodded, frowning slightly in concentration.

“That was sloppy but you’ll get there,” Natasha told her. The brunette still had a long way to go, but Natasha had no doubt she’d pick it up easily now that she actually had someone willing to invest their time on her. ”Again, but slowly! And move your feet and hips.”

“Bossy,” Skye panted as she jabbed at Natasha.

< \------ >

“You two have been spending an awful lot of time together,” Jemma said one night, during dinner.

Everyone had noticed, of course, that Skye and Natasha would spend most part of their day in the training room but Jemma was the first one to actually bring it up. Suddenly everyone stopped eating and all attentions were on Skye and the spy.

“Yeah. It’s true. I’ve noticed that too,” Fitz said, backing Jemma’s statement.

Skye swallowed the steak in her mouth and straightened her back.

“So?” she asked.

“It’s a good thing that Natasha is taking the time to help you with your training,” Coulson told her, sensing her defenses surfacing.

“She’s a good student… Mostly,” Natasha said, taking another bite of her meal, unfazed by the topic. Certainly there was nothing wrong in helping someone of her own team to fend for herself instead of relying entirely on someone else.

“Yeah, Natasha is helping me with my combat skills. I actually feel like I might survive a little one on one in the field,” the brunette joked. “Seriously, I’m sore all the time, but I’ve noticed a difference.”

“I may have to challenge you to check it out for myself,” May told her.

“She’s not quite there yet, but she’ll be as soon as I’m done with her.”

“It’s nice that you’re friends and that you’re fitting in nicely Natasha. We’re really glad you joined our team.”

Natasha looked at Coulson and nodded her appreciation. “I’m doing alright. Skye keeps me entertained, but you may want to check her insurance is up to date because as of tomorrow I’m taking the training wheels and I’m going to start challenging her.”

Skye coughed. “You weren’t challenging me?”

“I told you I’d teach you the basics before I attempted to do anything more aggressive.”

Coulson chuckled. “Just don’t break her, Natasha.”

“I can’t exactly promise you that.”

Skye coughed. “Uhm… Hello? Of course you can!” Skye protested, her eyes dilating. “Are you serious right now?”

Natasha lifted her brow and looked at Skye with so much calmness in her eyes it only frustrated Skye further. “I couldn’t be more serious. You thought I was pushing you before? Sweetheart you’re in for a huge surprise tomorrow.” Natasha smirked.

“Oh, that sounds like it’s going to be fun,” Jemma perked up. “Maybe Fitz and I will come over and cheer for you Skye.”

“No! No, no, no. No way! There will be no committee watching as I get beat up by her!” She looked accusingly at Natasha.

“Come on! It will be so much fun!” Jemma protested.

“Yeah, to whom?” The brunette glared, making Jemma quickly avert her gaze and wipe the thrill in her face.

< \----- >

“Oww…” Skye whined, lying on her back panting on the mattress. “How can you look like you just got up from a peaceful slumber when you’ve spent the past 2 and a half hours trying to break my bones?” she asked, sitting up slowly and massaging her back with her hand.

“You’re hardly exhausting me. Your movements are predictable, you’re slow and you’re not even attempting to defend yourself appropriately,” Natasha started.

“Yeah, yeah, fine… I get it.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Are you going to keep on whining or are you getting up from there and keep going?”

“I’m tired! Come on… You weren’t the one landing repeatedly on your back. Let’s just take a break, please?”

“You have no discipline.”

“That’s hardly true when you’re the one keeping me here all day…” Skye muttered.

Natasha shrugged. “Just because I keep you here all day that doesn’t mean you’re working as hard as you should be. You need practice. If you’re not passing out or throwing up I’d say you’re not as exhausted and you think you are.”

“Jeez… your S.O. must have been really cruel with you,” Skye let out as she crawled to grab her energy drink.

Natasha stiffened and turned her back to Skye, grabbing a pair of grappling gloves and putting them on herself. She started punching the heavy bag forcefully and rhythmically, her jaw clenching. Red gloves, hitting the red heavy bag violently, causing the training room to fill with loud thuds and sharp, cold sounds of metal rattling from the bag’s suspension chain.

She didn’t notice Skye approaching her or when the younger Agent tapped softly on her shoulder. In a swift movement Natasha took a hold of the brunette’s wrist and turned, pulling on Skye’s arm violently so the brunette’s arm was twisted as she fell forward. Just before Skye fell on her knees, Natasha, still keeping a strong grip on the younger Agent’s twisted arm, turned her body again. It almost looked like a step of dance as the assassin’s back hit Skye’s front, except that as quickly as everything happened Natasha used her left elbow to hit her attacker on the face.

“Natasha!” Skye screamed as she fell back, both her hands immediately covering her mouth and nose.

But the assassin didn’t process, she was engaged in a fight and she was going to finish it. She let go completely of her opponent’s arm and turned to face her, throwing a hook punch to the side of her face. As Skye, on her knees, tried to hold herself steady not to fall forward, Natasha delivered the final blow with an aerial move. She spun in the air, almost as if she was a ballerina performing a deathly fouetté turn, and with her left leg she hit Skye hard on the back of her head.

The younger Agent fell limp on the floor.

Natasha took a deep breath, the red fogginess clearing off her head. She looked at her target lying on the floor, by her feet. She frowned when she noticed the resemblance of her target to Skye and looked around her, remembering where she was. She swallowed the knot on her throat and slowly, carefully, she crouched. She took another deep breath and, placing her hand on her opponent’s shoulder she turned the body.

Natasha gasped and fell backwards, scurrying backwards like a crab. Her expression wasn’t blank anymore. No, Natasha was terrified and her eyes were glistening with tears she hadn’t even noticed had started pooling in her eyes. Her breathing was erratic too and she just couldn’t stop staring at Skye’s battered body lying there.

She had done that.

Natasha’s body trembled. She couldn’t move.

She noticed when the team stormed in the room and watched in slow motion as Coulson kneeled in front of Skye, placing his fingers on her neck, for sure trying to assess if she was alive. She felt as May pulled her arms behind her back and cuffed her wrists. She deserved this. She wouldn’t fight May even if she could regain control of her body.

Fitz remained by the door watching, petrified, while Jemma kneeled next to Coulson, shouting something Natasha couldn’t hear through the loud humming in her own head.

“Is she alive?” she choked. “Is she alive?” she kept repeating, but she wasn’t sure any sound was coming from her at all. All she could do was stare at Skye and when May finally pulled her body up and pushed her out of the room she offered no resistance.

She was dangerous.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to drop me a comment or leave me kudos. It feels really good to know you're enjoying the story.
> 
> I'm not particularly happy with this chapter. It was hard for me to put it together and even after reading and re-reading I still feel like it's not how I'd like it to be. Oh well... I'd spend more time on it but I'm going to admit to being quite busy with university. Maybe I'll come back here later and edit.
> 
> Also, don't be discouraged because things will improve between them.

“Start talking,” Coulson spat.

“How’s Skye?” Natasha croaks.

“Natasha!” Coulson raised his voice. “Start talking. Now! You’re not in a position to ask anything.”

“You better start talking Agent Romanoff,” May threatened.

May pursed her lips, trying to control her anger. If Natasha didn’t start answering she was afraid she’d start giving Natasha a taste of her own medicine.

Natasha didn’t speak, the only thing in her mind was Skye. She didn’t know how to explain what happened, she didn’t want to and she didn’t care if May tried to torture it out of her because she would take it all. She deserved it all. And by the looks of May she was certain the Cavalry would probably deliver.

“Natasha, dammit!” Coulson kept shouting. He wasn’t sure Natasha was even listening. The spy didn’t so much as blink or flinch, but if there was something he could see in her eyes was emotion. It was probably the first time he saw Agent Romanoff’s eyes brimming with tears. “It’s not looking good for you right now Natasha,” he spoke, now in a softer tone, crouching in front of the metal chair bolted to the floor that held the spy in place.

“How’s Skye?” she whispered.

“Are you listening to me Natasha?” Coulson asked, waving his hand in front of her face.

Nothing.

He grabbed a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and pointed it at the spy’s eyes, flashing them with light.

No reaction.

“She’s zoned out?” May asked, seething.

“It looks like that.” Coulson sighed, getting up. “She’s not going anywhere until we have answers though.”

< \----- >

The first thing Skye feels when she wakes up is the massive headache that increases exponentially as she becomes more alert. She groans as the pain intensifies.

“Hey,” she hears Jemma whispering. “How are you feeling?”

She opens her eyes to look at her friend, but the minute she does so she has to close them again. The pain is its sharpest because of the light in the room. “Too bright,” Skye lets out in a raspy voice.  

“Of course,” Jemma says, mentally cursing herself for her thoughtlessness. “There,” she lets out as she dims the light. “You may open your eyes now.”

“What happened to me?” Skye asks, trying to pull herself up to sit.

“What are you doing?!” Jemma snaps at her.

“Ouch! Too loud Jemma…” Skye complains with a wince. “My head’s killin’ me,” she protests just above a whisper.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jemma apologizes with a grimace of her own. “But you have to stay put, don’t move, please. You were badly injured in your head.”

“What?” Skye asks confused, lifting her hand to touch her sore face. “What the hell happened? I don’t…” And then Skye shuts her eyes tightly, the pain is unbearable and it comes back to her that Natasha had beaten the crap out of her. “Natasha?” she asks, more to herself than to Jemma, as if her mind is playing tricks on her.

“Yes,” Jemma answers even though, by the look in Skye’s face, she figures the doubt has been lifted.

“But…but why?” Skye whispers. “I need to talk to her. Where is she?” Sky asks, getting worked up and trying to get out of bed. Her body feels like it weighs tons and Jemma’s pushing her back down makes it harder to manifest her protest, but she needs to speak to Natasha. “You have to let me go Jemma,” Skye fights.

“I’m sorry. I can’t let you go anywhere. You need your rest or you could risk further injury,” Jemma tried to reason, but the brunette was stubborn.

“Jemma, please... There’s something wrong,” Skye pants.

“You need to calm down Skye. I can’t sedate you because of your injury so you have to do me a favor and be mindful of the seriousness of this situation.”

“Bring Natasha here then,” Skye tries to negotiate.

“I, I can’t,” the doctor says simply.

“Why not?”

Jemma doesn’t say anything and averts her gaze.

“Jemma…” Skye threatens.

The doctor sighs. “Fine, but you have to calm down first.”

“Okay, okay.” Skye groans. “Calming down, see?” She’s impatient.

“Coulson and May are interrogating Agent Romanoff,” the scientist blurts out.

“What? No!” Skye cries out, ignoring the throbbing in her head. “No, Jemma, please you have to bring her here. You don’t understand, it was my fault!”

< \----- >

“What do you mean it was your fault,” Coulson asked her. “Fitz-Simmons were watching you through the video security feed. They saw Agent Romanoff attacking you out of the blue,” Coulson told the young Agent, confused by her statement.

“Please just bring her here A.C.” Skye begged.

“Skye, I’m going to have to ask you, again, to please calm down. The pressure on your head…” Jemma tried to reason, but stopped as Skye glared at her. The pain and her head were clearly the last thing she cared about.

“Please A.C., it was my fault.”

“She attacked you Skye, Agent Romanoff attacked a member of this team.”

“Because of something I did!”

“It doesn’t serve as an excuse. I can’t allow this behavior. It goes for Agent Romanoff and anyone who disrespects the code of conduct,” he let out, aggravated. “Aggression is not tolerated."

“Let me go see her then,” Skye said, starting to lift herself again for the umpteenth time.

“Sir!” Jemma raised her voice. “Please,” Jemma cleared her throat, embarrassed by her outburst. “Skye really can’t deal with this stress right now…Maybe you should,” Jemma tried, offering a small smile. “Maybe you should allow Agent Romanoff here under supervision, of course.”

Coulson sighed and looked at Skye.

“Five minutes Skye. You’ll get five minutes and then I’m personally escorting Agent Romanoff back to questioning.”

Skye gave a small nod, wincing at the pain that small movement caused her.

< \----- >

As Coulson pushes Natasha into Skye’s room both of them immediately lock eyes.

“Skye…” Natasha gasps. She steps forward, tentatively and her eyes scan the injuries on the younger woman’s face. There’s a bad bruise forming on the brunette’s cheekbone and a gash on her lip. Natasha swallows hard and her eyes fill with tears again.

“Any funny business and I won’t hesitate to arrest you, Agent Romanoff”, Coulson warns before he leaves the room to stand outside with May, watching both women through the glass door.

None of the two acknowledge him, being too focused on each other.

Skye frowns at Natasha with a hurt expression. She doesn’t know if she should be angry or worried that the spy is on the verge of breaking down in front of her. “I’m fine,” Skye says, feeling the need to comfort the older Agent. She knows it’s ironic, but she worries and she knows there’s something really wrong.

“I’m sorry Skye, I...” For once the Black Widow is at a loss for words and she can’t even look at Skye’s face anymore. She’s ashamed by herself for hurting the younger woman. It’s the first time she sincerely uses these words, but not even because of that does she feel like it will ever make up for nearly killing someone she… _cares_ about.

“I want you to tell me why you did what you did,” Skye demands.

Natasha doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have a proper explanation. She doesn’t remember attacking Skye, she was blind to who her attacker was.

“Natasha,” Skye presses, her voice falling an octave. She’s getting tired. The exertion to have Coulson bring the spy in the room took whatever energy she had left and she feels like she wants to slap the woman around if she doesn’t start talking soon.

“I don’t know why Skye… I snapped.”

“Yeah…” Skye scoffs with a grimace. “I could tell.”

“I’m dangerous. I should have never allowed you to come close. It’s never happening again,” Natasha lets out, her voice impossibly raspy.

“You think that’s what I want?” Skye frowns. “I just want an explanation Natasha. I just need to understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand. It’s not happening again. I’m getting off this plane as soon as it touches down.”

“You’re running, then?”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe, yes. I nearly killed you.”

“You were fine and then you were attacking me, staring as if you weren’t even there... did you even know what you were doing? Did you realize I cried out your name to try and make you stop?”

Natasha took a sharp intake of breath and her green eyes met Skye’s again.

She shook her head. How could she not have heard the brunette calling out to her?

Skye nearly choked herself trying to fight her own tears. It wasn’t the pain in her body that bothered her, it wasn’t the fact Natasha had nearly finished her off… it was just the pain in the older woman’s eyes and the sense that the conversation won’t take them anywhere.

“I know you didn’t mean it Natasha.” Skye told her with a small reassuring nod. “But please help me understand,” she begged. “So it doesn’t have to happen again,” she finished just above a whisper. “I’d hate to die such a useless death,” she attempted a joke. But it didn’t work out the way she imagined. The environment in the room was thicker than ever. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Skye tried when Natasha just kept silent to her own thoughts.

“Red…” Natasha bit her trembling lip.

Skye never thought she’d see the older woman this terrified.

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve been compromised,” the spy’s voice cracked.

Spending time with Skye, pulling away from her mask, daring to be someone had made Natasha unstable. Her red room nightmares had become frequent, the flashbacks had been plaguing her for some time now, but she tried to shake those away, believing she was still in control. The truth was, she’d never fear anything in life as she feared what had been done to her and now that she had allowed herself to become vulnerable, to let some of her defenses down, she’d snapped unwillingly and become something dangerous, someone she had absolutely no control of. She was being unmade again, by herself this time. She needed discipline, she couldn’t allow emotions. She needed control. She needed distance from Skye.

“I need to leave,” Natasha said with resolution, her eyes shutting down.

“Natasha wait!” Skye called out, closing her eyes tightly as the searing pain ripped through her head. She sat up and with some effort pulled herself out of bed. She needed to feel tall, she needed to look Natasha well in the eyes.

“You should lie down,” Natasha told her simply while following the brunette’s every movement in case she needed help. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for a decay in Skye’s condition.

Skye bit her tongue, feeling the anger overtaking her. “You’re tiring me out so much you have no idea,” she vented, moving to stand just inches from the red haired Agent. “I’m tired of having to take a million steps to get a stupid, cryptic answer,” Skye continued, raising her voice well above the pounding in her head. “You don’t get to just walk away on me!” she said, moving to stand between the door and Natasha. “Talk!” she demanded once more, with finality in her voice.

Natasha took a deep breath and turned her head to the side before she actually turned to completely face the younger woman.

“Dammit Natasha!” Skye cried out lifting her arms in exasperation. “Do something, say something, just… Let’s get out of this nowhere zone where nothing happens. Why are you trying so hard to run away from me? I should be the one running and I’m not so why are you so desperate to shove me away?”

“Because I can’t control myself.”

However simple and vague that statement was, it was something. At least it made Skye take a deep breath and unclench.

“You really have to stop being so cryptic all the time. Can’t you for once give me a straight answer?” Skye asked. Skye could read green eyes debating and suffering, aching to be freed and she knew how hard it was to allow such thing, so she lowered her voice and tried not to voice her irritation. “Please,” Skye begged. “Give me anything. I think I deserve it at this point, Natasha.”

“You’re making me feel things. You’re making me act in ways that are unnatural to me. I’m losing my grip, I’m…”

“Letting your guard down?” Skye finishes for the spy.

Natasha answers with a small embarrassed nod. “It can’t happen. Not safely. You see what that caused? I hurt you Skye,” she voices her inner turmoil.

“You’re a ticking time bomb.”

“That’s exactly why I need to leave,” Natasha tells her.

“I disagree. What you need is to talk about whatever it is that you’ve been bottling up for all these years. That’s the only way you’re going to regain control.”

Natasha seems to ponder her words, but talking about herself is something she’s never done. It’s something she was heavily conditioned not to do and however self-conscious she feels by admitting she needs it, even to herself, doesn’t even come close to how frightened the idea makes her.

“I just need to get away,” Natasha insists.

Skye frowns. “What, from me?” She doesn’t even wait for Natasha to reply, whatever emotional opening the spy is giving her at this moment is not going to last for long. Skye can see all those walls fighting against the spy, wanting Natasha to shut her out. “Do you honestly think that what you’re feeling is going to go away?”

“It’s not the first time I do it. I’ve done it before, a long time ago.”

Skye makes a mental note to bring this subject up some other time and sighs. “You have an opportunity to be free of whatever past you’re so afraid of. Are you going to hide from it? I thought you were braver than that. I thought you didn’t give up,” Skye scoffs. Natasha’s stillness is troubling her and so she’s being intentionally provocative, trying to cause a reaction. Even an aggressive outburst would mean progress at this point. The spy, however, just stares blankly through Skye’s head, as if it were invisible.

“Please stay. Please talk to me. Let me be your friend. Let me show you friendship is good, let me show you that you can trust me,” Skye pleads softly. She’ll try about anything to get through to the red head but that doesn’t mean her words are any less true. “Natasha I know everything about living in fear. I know what it’s like not knowing who you are. I know what it’s like to always expect people to betray you,” she confessed. “I’m not going to do that to you when it’s something I struggle with everyday too. Every day I have to remind myself that sometimes I just need to try and have faith in people, no matter how badly I was hurt in the past. It took me a long time to understand that, it’s still so tough to put that to practice, but everyone needs someone. I do too. You do too,” Skye told her softly, looking straight into the other woman’s eyes, hoping she’ll read the sincerity in her own. “Be the person that I can trust and I promise I’ll never give you reasons to hide. Just please… Stay. Let me be your friend.”

Hearing the desperateness in those words made Natasha snap back from her thoughts. She pursed her lips and focused her gaze on Skye’s eyes. If only she could just let go of her demons, if only she could stop feeling so lost, so disgusted by her own weakness, if only she could be good enough...

“Please don’t leave me too, Tasha,” Skye whispered, broken.

Natasha wanted so much to pull the brunette into her and hold her, promise her that she could trust her and that she’d stay and protect her, but the spy couldn’t. Not when she had already broken the promise before it was even made, not when she couldn’t even trust herself. So instead Natasha leaned forward and dropped a lingering kiss to Skye’s forehead, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her heart.

“Please Tasha,” Skye begged, clutching to the woman’s sleeve, sensing the farewell undertones of the kiss.  

“I can’t,” Natasha breathed. “I’m sorry.”


	5. Chapter 5

__

_"From first, let's do demi-plié, tendu front, back to the demi and straighten to tendu, closing to the first, demi-plié, out, in, up, two tendus, front, side, back and side and parallel forward stretch, up and back, demi-pointes, demi out and in, two tendus..." the professor explained in her thick Russian dialect as she exemplified to the class. The group of principal dancers watched concentrated, some of them mimicking in a more lax way, only to memorize the new exercise. This was their first class of the day, a 2 hour class they all had 6 out of 7 days of the week, designed to warm them up and correct small technique problems. The class would start slow and increase in pace and demand as the minutes and piano notes rolled into more complex sequences and the dancers would then, at the peak of the lesson, practice technique and form. It was an excellent preparation for the rest of such a demanding day._

_As the professor stopped talking, the pianist began playing live and, resting their hands on the bar, the dancers began, professionally and gracefully, to perform._

_In a sing-song voice, following the piano, the teacher circled the group of dancers and sang the exercise to them, "Gooood! Demi-plié, tennndu front, back to first, aaand up, ten-du front, first, tendu front, first, demi-plié, good Natalia," the professor nodded, hand waving with the melody as she assessed her best ballerina, the one the theater was keen to sign as a prima ballerina. The professor stood, looking her up and down and pursing her lips in contained excitement by the red-haired dancer's perfection. "Goood! Stretch the demi, six, seven aaand demi-plié..."_

_Natalia practiced hard. Everyone at the academy did, but Natalia was the best, she had to be for her own satisfaction, and she'd often stay at the theater well beyond the 6 uninterrupted hours of rehearsal that followed the morning ballet lesson. Over and over she'd rehearse and it was no wonder she was so graceful in her movements that the Bolshoi considered her their personal golden girl._

_Natalia stood in front of the mirror and took a deep breath. The pressure was on, she'd been cast for the first time to perform as Odile, the Black Swan, in Swan Lake and the expectations were always so high regarding this piece at the Bolshoi that Natalia barely did anything else but eat her calories and dance them out. She looked at herself in the mirror before starting the vinyl for Tchaikovsky's Allegro Vivace and assuming her initial position. As the note she was waiting for filled the small studio, she instantly rose en pointe and started her sequence of turns, beautifully, elegantly, practicing the so dreaded 32 fouettés en tournant from the famously known Coda in Act 3. The challenge wasn't completing 32 fouettés. Not at all. In fact, no one would join the ballet, not even the academy as one of the younger students, if they couldn't perform them with reasonable technique. The challenge was completing them, not pirouettes, with amazing tempo and with outstanding form and technique, so they looked fluid, effortless and graceful. Not a finger could falter her at this point, not with Swan Lake and not at the Bolshoi, who admittedly was responsible for the most beautiful version of this ballet. And so Natalia turned, and turned, over and over again, delivering magnificent fouettés, ignoring, as usual, for the next hour, the burning of her thighs' muscles as her leg stretched and whipped out with each single turn._

_At 19 ballet was her passion, she was the happiest when she was dancing - her mind would go into this one magical place and her body just knew what to do. It was tiring but the most beautiful thing the young woman had ever done. Once the music started she simply couldn't stop moving with it and she loved the sensation, the freedom, the peacefulness... and how she could express herself and her rawest emotions so artistically. Natalia was fully committed and the lack of personal time in favor of ballet didn't actually bother her. Of course there were days when rehearsing was the last thing she felt like doing, but she was disciplined and her love for the art was so deeply rooted she understood she couldn't give anything but her absolute best at all times. Natalia was dedicated, she was committed to reach the top and to make a name for herself - a name she would be so incredibly proud of. Swan Lake was just the beginning of her dream journey and she was going to be grand on opening night when she'd take the massive and majestic stage of the Bolshoi Theater._

_Except... opening night never happened. KGB had other plans for her._

 

#

Natasha shook her head, releasing an exasperated breath through her mouth. The memories from her past just wouldn't leave her alone no matter how hard she attempted to clear her mind from any thoughts. Not in the hardest of the jobs had she felt such turmoil and perhaps that really was the reason why she couldn't shake her demons away. But it couldn't be. She'd always kept herself in check without needing anything or anyone to help her. This wouldn't be any different. What she really needed was a mission to immerse herself into and luckily, even though Coulson had pretty much shunned her from the team and was actually willing to let her off the bus on its next stop, a mission came up that couldn't be carried out without her help, since Skye was still recovering from the head injury she had caused her.

Skye had been irritable that they weren't allowing her in the field, but Jemma was adamant that 48 hours weren't nearly enough rest time for such a head trauma. With some reluctance she'd agreed to stay on the bus with Fitz-Simmons monitoring hostile activity through her laptop. She'd tried to speak to Natasha right before she left with May and Coulson, but the spy hadn't even showed any signs of acknowledgment. She'd retreated into her shell and was, apparently, as impenetrable as always. Skye didn't press her. It wasn't like the spy actually needed her to wish her good luck. It was her job after all, and one she excelled at. Not only would Skye's words be inutile and be read for their real meaning, of wanting to assess their situation, but they'd also disrupt the mental focus the Widow was known for. Skye just sighed and let them leave, knowing plenty well, despite the success or unsuccess of this mission, Natasha would refuse to come back on board of the bus. With a knot on her throat she joined Fitz-Simmons on Ops room and guided the team through the compound, warning them of incoming threats. Everything was going well, the team had secured the compound and retrieved the 084. They were on their way back when out of nowhere a rather large group of hostiles caught them off guard. She looked from her laptop to Jemma and Leo, her eyes widening as the sounds from the struggle became too loud on her ear. Without thinking she grabbed her gun and took off running. She wouldn't make such a difference on her own, but she certainly wouldn't just stand there and listen when she could be doing something.

"Skye!" Leo shouted after her.

"Where are you going?!" Jemma asked, concerned, running after the brunette.

"I'm not standing here while they need my help!" Skye let out, hopping on May's bike and setting the coordinates on the inbuilt GPS.

"Skye, wait!" Jemma had called out. Skye however didn't even look back. She wasn't going to abandon her team while they were surrounded in an ambush.

 

#

The first kill always stays engraved in the mind. It marks the moment darkness is allowed to consume the spirit. Natasha still remembered every detail of her first. It haunted her at times, still. Now, given her own instability, more often than it used to. It was no surprise to the spy that Skye was withdrawing: No matter the reason, even if it was to save May, the first kill had the ability to make people question everything they thought was true. She knew, as did May and Coulson, Skye was struggling. From the way she'd just stood frozen, Glock in her hand, aiming at nothing, with her enemy already bleeding out by her feet, from the way her eyes didn't even move, from the way she was led out of the compound without so much as a voluntary reaction and from the way she'd rushed desperately to her bunker the moment they'd entered the bus, they all could tell Skye wasn't doing well. The 25 year old was numb and no amount of talk could possibly erase that trauma. Still, that was the reason why Natasha had boarded the bus and that was the reason why Coulson didn't protest. Skye needed them all and no matter how angry he was at Agent Romanoff, deep down he knew there was more to her incident than he knew and if Skye trusted her, he wouldn't take Natasha from her. Not at a moment like this when she'd have to go through the process of understanding what she did was for a greater good, that she had no burning desire to kill.

Natasha knocked on Skye's bunker door but when she got no answer she just decided to let herself in. It made her heart clench when she saw the younger woman curled into a ball, crying. At this point the spy had absolutely no desire to hide and play the emotionless part, not if she could somehow comfort Skye.

"It gets better", Natasha told her simply, sitting quietly on the small bed next to the younger Agent. She debated with herself for a while before she finally decided to rest her hand on Skye's shoulder.

The brunette tensed and quickly turned her head, eyes wide open, red and dilated in fear.

"It's just me" Natasha tried to sooth her when she realized Skye hadn't even noticed she'd walked in. "It's just me," she said, frowning at herself. As if she was someone who could provide relief to anyone...especially after what she'd done. She would never be able to stop blaming herself.

Skye relaxed visibly and took a deep, shaky breath, turning on her side so she was facing Natasha.

"Please don't leave me alone," she whispered in the smallest tone, curling herself into a tighter ball.

The spy was caught off guard and was sure her heart had just been stabbed, because the pain she felt was not normal. Her own face was, as it was becoming usual with Skye, failing to obey her orders. But she didn't care. She pulled her legs up on the bed and lied down, on her side, facing the terrified mess Skye was at the moment. In a foreign impulse Natasha cupped Skye's cheek and stroke it softly. It was the first meaningful human contact she'd attempted and, contrary to what she expected, it felt right. She didn't even question herself when she just wrapped her arms around Skye and let the distraught brunette clutch to her impossibly tight. How ironic it was to Natasha that the Widow was of comfort to anyone. She felt Skye shaking in her arms and held her closer, tighter against her, legs intertwined. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise. You're safe now." No, this wasn't a persona. These were her feelings, however alien to her, spurting out of an impulse, making a promise to make ammends. She cared for someone, it was her weakness now and she was just going to have to learn how to live with it. She should have been worried, based on her small history she should have ended this exchange the minute it started, she should have retreated, but she couldn't. She didn't want to. Instead, Natasha kisses Skye's forehead so softly she even doubts she touched her at all. Skye wipes her tears with the back of her hand before looking up, deep into revealing green eyes. Natasha is an open book in that moment and Skye relaxes, staring into mesmerizing eyes she's truly seeing for the first time. It is quiet and intense but it's not awkward and Natasha is calm, giving.

"I'm scared," Skye whispers, trying not to disturb too much the comfortable quietness.

The red haired doesn't know what to say. Of course Skye would be scared. She was trying her best to be of comfort but at the end of the day she was still the Black Widow, she was still the assassin who had nearly killed her. Most importantly, she wasn't good enough.

"I can get Melinda if you want," Natasha offers, trying and failing to hide the hurt in her eyes.

Skye feels the older woman closing herself and before more damage can be done to whatever relationship they're lamely trying to hold together she whispers, "I'm not scared of you Natasha."

The spy looks intently at the brunette in her arms who clings to her as if she's going to run.

"I'm just...I don't..." she stumbles with her words unsure of how to describe what she's feeling without sounding pathetic.

"You feel like you will never be the same," Natasha spoke softly, caressing Skye's cheek.

Skye nods, averting her gaze.

"You won't," the assassin tells her. "You will never be the same but if you hadn't taken that shot May would be dead, you'd probably be dead, the entire team would have been compromised. I'm not saying it's alright to find an excuse for a kill, but that guy made his choice to hurt people, to kill whoever crossed his path in defense of HYDRA. Even civilians. If you hadn't fired that gun there would have been one more cancer terrorizing innocents. He needed to be stopped, he wasn't going to change his loyalties. You were brave enough to do what you had to do and spare a bigger amount of lives."

Skye just sighs.

"How can you do it?" she asks. It's not accusatory, it's an innocent question.

"In case you haven't noticed I'm already rotten beyond repair," she jokes. But Skye knows there's no joke in there. Natasha believes in what she's saying. "I'm just good at being cold and detached."

"But you are not," Skye corrects her in a heartbeat.

The red haired raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Cold and detached," Skye adds.

Natasha chuckles, retrieving her hand from the brunette's cheek. She's surprised that she feels like, despite everything that has transpired between them, she may be passing a wrong impression, a better one, that Skye stubbornly clings to and that's impossibly far from reality. At the end of the day she is still an assassin. She's responsible for thousands of deaths. She shouldn't even be touching Skye, corrupting her with her murderous hands.

"You're not," Skye tells her softly, grabbing Natasha's hand. "You would just rather believe so. You'd just rather everyone believed it."

Natasha snorts. "But they do honey. I'm an assassin."

"I don't care. They don't know you."

"Neither do you," Natasha tells her, more brusquely than she intended.

Skye ignores her. "I know you enough. You wouldn't be here with me if there wasn't good in you. You were worried about me. You didn't leave. You care, Natasha," she lets out with so much conviction the spy almost wants to believe her.

"Well." Natasha smiled softly. "Let's just say you're my only exception, then."

"You sound awful corny for someone who practically claims to be heartless."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Looks like you got back your groove."

It's Skye's turn to smile. She stares at Natasha for a while, getting lost in the pool of green once more. Suddenly her face turns serious.

"What's wrong?" the older woman asks, concerned.

"I'm not sure." Skye swallows hard.

"Are you trying to lie to me?" Natasha asks, raising her eyebrow playfully.

The brunette shakes her head. "I just...This is going to sound so ridiculous," she puffs.

"Try me," she says, squeezing the hand that's still holding hers.

"I just feel like I really want to kiss you," Skye whispers. Natasha just stares, but her eyes soften. "Like... Kiss you, kiss you." The young woman blushes.

"It's normal," Natasha replies with more hoarseness than usual in her voice. "You just need something that will make you feel good. Kissing does that," Natasha explains nonchalantly. She knows it's a normal coping mechanism. In situations of extreme stress Natasha tends to turn more to her boxing bag, but she has her fair share amount of meaningless sex to escape from the demons in her head.

Natasha just leaned down and pecked Skye on the lips, before sucking on her lower lip. She traces the younger woman's lips with her tongue and brings her hand to cup her cheek again. When Skye opens her mouth they kiss slowly for a few minutes until Skye lets out a small moan. Natasha smiles, recognizing in that moan the beginning of the body's natural response to pleasant stimulation. She kisses Skye on the forehead and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Better then?" she asks.

Skye only nods, ignoring the thoughts that are threatening to invade her mind. It's her turn to silence them, pretend they're not there at all, and just let Natasha hold her so she can try to sleep and make peace with the day's events. For all she knows Natasha's presence could still be temporary and she's not ready to deal with that. All she really wants is to fall asleep feeling safe and she clutches unconsciously to Natasha, afraid that if she doesn't she'll be gone when she wakes up.

The older woman seems to understand Skye's tension.

"I'll be here when you wake up," she whispers. "I promise you."


	6. Chapter 6

As promised, when Skye finally wakes up from her short slumber, Natasha is still there. Skye groans in embarrassment, recognizing the warmth of Natasha’s body against hers and instantly she feels her cheeks burning as the memories of their exchange become clearer to her still fuzzy mind. It’s not that it doesn’t feel incredibly safe and comfortable but she’s suddenly at a loss regarding what to do and how to react. To make her predicament worse Skye becomes painfully self-conscious of their position and slowly, as if she’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, even though she knows Natasha is awake and undoubtedly aware of their intertwined limbs, she untangles herself from the redhead. Sensing her discomfort Natasha gets up and gives the excuse that she needs a shower, which she does, having not had the time to get out of her uniform when she boarded the bus. Although they’re not too awkward with each other, although they feel the strong pull every time their eyes meet, even though it’s obvious they, not just want, need this interaction, both of them are grateful to be apart. They know to thread carefully and to respect personal space. Although their personal facts remain very vague to one another, there’s an understanding, and maybe that’s why they feel so familiar to each other, that neither one of them has had had the healthiest upbringing when it came to nurturing and sharing feelings. It’s blatantly obvious to both women that they need to process alone and not make a big deal out of physical contact and affection. Skye blushes at the thought of clinging to the spy and lets out a frustrated groan. She wonders if she’s passing the idea that she’s needy and the sort of fragile person she’s never really been. She hates that she might.

It’s late at night and neither one of them has seen the other, both having the same thought of seeking refuge in the safety of their own rooms. Skye busies herself with her laptop, but she finds her thoughts keep trailing to Natasha and how she really doesn’t want the spy to leave. When she tries to find an explanation, she’s happy telling herself she just feels like, somehow, they clicked and understand each other. It has nothing to do with deeper romantic feelings and she shakes her head quite violently when those ideas threat to linger in her mind for too long, dismissing them as ridiculous and out of place. She tells herself there’s no logical explanation. She just likes the spy and she’s intrigued by her. She enjoys the fact she seems to be able to read beyond the mask while everyone else just tends to stick with the inaccuracy of the obvious. She likes that the spy is not as guarded with her, whether that’s voluntary or not, and she likes the idea of spending time together with the woman. She knows they could be an interesting duo in regards of friendship. She has a feeling Natasha will have a soft spot for pranks as well and she cracks a smile at that thought that they certainly could give Fitz-Simmons hell.

Uncharacteristically Natasha is the one not shying away from probing her feelings. She knows she’s too fond of the brunette and she knows this, whatever it is, is something complex because she doesn’t have these kinds of feelings for just anyone. These are different, these go beyond mutual understanding as it happens with Clint, and respect and admiration as it happens with Steve. These feelings are not circumstantial either. They’re something else entirely, something that’s been previously forced on her. This time, however, she’s somewhat in control, the feelings are real. Natasha is both scared and defensive. She doesn’t want to delve into those, but she doesn’t want to pull away either. Making yet another unusual decision, she heads to Ops room and spends the next half hour printing. She may not want to delve into complicated feelings, but she knows she’d maybe like a friend and this is her first step into building trust. Against everything she always believed, she’s going to come clean with Skye. Screw protocol, screw repercussions.

#

“I have something for you,” Natasha says in a hoarse whisper, letting herself in Skye’s room.

By the look in the spy’s face and the tone in her voice, Skye knows it’s serious and so she sets her laptop aside on the bed and sits up straight, even though her legs remain crossed. She looks intently at the spy, hoping they are not about to have another push and pull moment.

Skye is about to break the silence when Natasha hands her a folder. To be honest, Skye hasn’t even noticed the folder until that moment, which is surprising because this one is particularly large. She wonders what it is about.

“What’s this?” the brunette asks, confused.

She accepts the heavy folder but her eyes are trained on the red haired woman. Natasha just looks down and her lips part. She hesitates though, and no words come out at first. Finally, with a sigh, she manages to give the brunette the answer she’s waiting for. “It’s my folder. It has everything on me.”

Skye takes a sharp intake of breath, her own lips parting in surprise. “But…” she stammers.

“I want you to know.” Natasha tells her softly. She’ll be lying when she reassures Skye that she should read it, because deep down she’s unsure. She’s not ready to openly admit it but she’s afraid reading the file with actually push the younger woman away. On some level she hopes it does, so she doesn’t have to do it herself later on, when she’s sure she’ll regret this very moment. Then, there’s that part of her that’s she’s trying to learn how to voice that wants her to believe this will be something good that will help Skye to trust her. “If there’s someone who should know, it’s you,” she adds.

Skye finally looks down at the folder, paying very little attention to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s logo and the obvious disclaimer, warning her these are level 8 documents. She doesn’t say anything, instead she purses her lips and slowly opens the folder, carefully as if something will break by the mere turning of the pages.

There are so many pages in it, Skye realizes as her thumb grazes through the side of the folder. She knows it would be impossible to read everything in just a night. However, she keeps silent and scans the first document, the one with Natasha’s stoic picture. Skye frowns in disagreement. She sees her entirely differently now.

 

NATASHA ROMANOFF                                                                        ASSET 506

BLACK WIDOW                                                                                 BLKWID 4-562

                                                                                                  CASE FILE: 242-66

                  FOLDER 1-35: AGENT IDENTITY - PERSONAL FILE

 

Skye sighs and shaking her head she closes the folder with a loud snap, placing it in front of her, next to her laptop. She looks up at Natasha, who’s still standing next to her, looking uncomfortable and uncertain. She takes the spy’s cold hand in hers and pulls her down so she’s sitting in front of her. She doesn’t force her to face her though. Skye knows it will be easier on her this way. However, she refuses to let go of Natasha’s hand.

“I don’t want to read your personal file,” Skye explains. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s okay. I gave it to you.” Natasha looks to her left, straight into Skye’s eyes, trying to convey the message that she really thought things through.

“I know,” Skye says. “But I don’t want to know you like this, by reading some interpretation of you that S.H.I.E.L.D. wrote. I’d rather hear it from you, your version. No one will teach me who you are better than yourself.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Natasha admits, more in introspection than anything else.

“Just tell me what you feel is important. Those are the things you’ll probably remember first anyway.” Skye squeezes the thin hand in reassurance. “You don’t have to tell me everything today either,” she chooses to add, giving Natasha the option to stop if she needs. She knows she won’t, but she doesn’t want her to feel cornered. It speaks volumes to her that the spy even decided something as drastic as this. She’s feels something building in her chest, as if she could boast with pride.

“My name,” Natasha starts. It’s not an important piece of information, but it’s an ice breaker. She just needs to start speaking. “My name wasn’t always Natasha Romanoff. That’s the American version I chose for myself. I have had many aliases due to my job, but my real name, my birth name is Natalia.”

“Natalia,” Skye repeats after the redhead. “Natalia, I like it.”

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova.”

Skye smiles. “Say that again?”

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova.”

“I really like the sound of that.”

Natasha raises her eyebrow in curiosity. She wants to figure out Skye’s grin.

“It’s just that your English is perfect, no accent at all, but I think I really like how Russian sounds, coming from you,” Skye admits, stopping herself just before she finishes her thought out loud. She blushes, chastising herself for even thinking Natasha’s Russian is sexy.

“Вы очаровательны.”

“What’s that?” Skye laughs, mesmerized, feeling a shiver running down her spine.

“Just that you’re adorable,” Natasha tells her softly.

Then Natasha’s mood shifts and suddenly her expression turns serious. Skye gives her hand another, very faint, squeeze, letting her know she’s listening, that she knows it’s serious, that she will try not to interrupt. Surprisingly, Natasha does get the message, she just seems to know what Skye means. “For a really long time I couldn’t tell what was true, what was a lie. On some level, I still can’t. I still mix who I am, I still get confused by my own origin,” she confesses. “But that has probably more to do with the fact I’ve never been just one person for a long period of time, than the fact that I was implanted with false memories by KGB as to ensure my loyalty to them,” she explains.

“Wait, what? What do you mean they gave you false memories?” Already she’s surprised by what she’s hearing and she’s certain this is not even the most important detail of the story.

Natasha laughs, but it’s a sad laugh. One of defeat and loss, one Skye also understands. “It’s rather unlucky that the best part of my life is nothing but a lie,” she says, clenching. “When I was 17 I was a dancer, I was a student at the Bolshoi Academy and was offered a place at the Company. I was the youngest, at the time, to ever make it there because I truly was so good at it. I was happy. I was a ballerina, I had this amazing path ahead of me, I was in love, engaged and dancing with the best. I was just… happy,” she stresses. “I had a life. It was tough and tiring, but I loved it, how it felt.”

“I don’t understand…”

Natasha cuts Skye, being the one to squeeze her hand this time, silently asking her to be patient so she can continue and make sense of everything. “Soon after I married, I started having these moments when things just didn’t make sense in my mind. I couldn’t get my facts straight and when someone asked me my age I’d say I was 19, but my mind would scream that I was 29. I’d tell them I was a ballerina at the Bolshoi, I’d boast about the role I’d landed in Swan Lake, and my mind would scream I was a secret agent. It didn’t make any sense to me. I thought I was losing my mind. Then my husband died, or so they made me believe, and my mind must have jump started because suddenly I had this inexplicable desire to become a spy to avenge my husband’s death. Somehow I knew I’d be positively amazing at it, I knew I had skills, even though all my life I’d been a ballerina and had lead a very peaceful life. It just sort of became clear to me, after a long while that my life was not what I thought it was. At all. Things started to come to me in flashbacks during my re-training and by now I think I sorted what was actually something I lived and something KGB made me believe I lived, but it wasn’t easy to get there. I didn’t know who I was, I was confused and getting glimpses of my true life as if I was watching a horror movie through electromagnetic interference.” Natasha pauses, taking a deep breath as memories assaulted her mind. “I don’t know who I am now,” she finally says. “But at that moment it was terrifying in a whole different level. I may not know who I am now, but **_then_** I didn’t even know what I was doing. I was being controlled.”

“What kinds of stuff were you seeing? What did you remember?” Skye whispers, trying to absorb everything Natasha tells her.

“I was saved from a building on fire by a man, Ivan Petrovitch. He raised me for a couple of years. He was a soldier, kind…” Natasha smiles, remembering the only father figure she could think of. “On my fifth birthday, he took me into this massive compound. I knew he worked there but I’d never been there. It looked huge from the outside. I remember I’d never seen anything like it. It was a real indoor city - a fortified one. I didn’t understand at first, but that would become my home for the next several years. It was known as the Red Room Academy, a secret department to train orphaned soviet children in espionage. Not just any children,” Natasha adds, feeling the need to clarify. “This academy was designed specifically for orphaned girls. Beautiful orphaned little girls,” she explains.

Skye rubs her thumb on Natasha’s hand and the spy looks down at their linked hands. She needs this, she doesn’t even realize it, but she’s trembling as her head fills with horrifying images she’ll forever have engraved in her mind.

“It’s a very frightening place, made specifically to rewire our brains. Everything was red there, almost as if to, in a very basic, subconscious level, make us comforted by the sight of spilled blood. I forgot most colors existed. We were trapped in that city, being tortured into becoming obedient soldiers, conditioned to always avoid emotions and human contact, drilled with various idioms at every minute and learning other countries’ cultures, their idiosyncrasies and ideologies before we were even taught our own Russian origins. It was a separate world of rigorous programming and for every time you didn’t deliver, every time you weren’t the best you could expect severe torture. Competition was encouraged. Bonding, compassion, help, hope… those were not. I became really good, really fast. I exceeded expectations and senior agents at age 12. That’s how long I’ve been spilling blood.”

“Natasha…” Skye whispers with a deep frown, ready to protest. But Natasha cuts her off again.

“I served KGB as a NOC for over a decade and then suddenly I forget all about it. I lived 2 years under direct mind control. Those weren’t orders. They actively had me unmade and controlled by hijacking my brain to a whole new level. Suddenly I’m Natalia Romanova, 17 and already the Bolshoi’s golden ballerina, the girl who fell in love with a test pilot, Alexei. I had a very nurturing upbringing, a wonderful relationship with my parents and a promising career ahead of me. I found out later that this was KGB’s plan all along. They wanted me with Alexei, they forged my feelings. I was their puppet, a sleeper Agent. Every day I thought I was going to that magical theater I adored and, instead, I was going right into KGB’s headquarters. I’d arrive home at night, to Alexei, the man I thought I loved, believing I’d been rehearsing when in fact I’d had information tortured out of me, I’d been locked, trained combat, done everything but what I thought I’d been doing. I’d be having my mind wiped and replaced with memories and convictions that weren’t even mine every single day for 2 years. Funny part is… Somehow I even acquired the skills of a ballerina.” Natasha smiles sadly and attempts a look at Skye, who’s visibly shocked by what she’s hearing. Natasha doesn’t blame her. It is surreal.

She sighs. “I guess KGB found a way to still torture me today. Making me remember something that despite not being real, once made me so happy. They did that to me, they gave me everything and then took it away. As if I could ever live a normal life… Silly Natalia,” Natasha finishes with a whisper, taking a moment to calm her anger. Skye just remains silent, knowing this wasn’t the moment to interrupt. She could see Natasha’s profile and by he way her body tensed and her forehead formed creases, she knew the spy was struggling. Skye was sure if Natasha could she’d be at the gym, lashing out at the punching bag. She doesn’t want to startle her. She’s not even remotely scared, but she knows better now than to risk confusing the spy and trap her into her nightmare.

“I was even lying about my age so successfully, and this will help you understand your own doubts, because I was biochemically reprogrammed. It was important that KGB’s deadliest would be able to withstand almost anything and survive. I have an inhuman immune system, my cells regenerate five times faster than a normal person’s, I hardly get sick and I don’t age as fast… I was perfectly enhanced to survive the test of time and the torture I’d withstand over the years.” Natasha sighed. “I remember various procedures done on me for that very reason. I remember being locked in this sort of trance. It made me very willing to obey, to remain still and silent despite the excruciating pain of being experimented on.”

Skye takes a deep breath, squeezing Natasha’s hand a little too hard, while trying very hard not to pull her into a hug. She knows it wouldn’t have the desired effect. At all.

“I was pregnant when KGB told me Alexei had perished, which turned out to be a lie. I witnessed his death later on, he’d thought me dead as well. Turns out we were both working for KGB, even if at different times,” Natasha confesses. “When we crossed paths again, I was already a rogue,” she adds as an afterthought.

Skye knows there were many things that probably deserved voicing astonishment over, but she just doesn’t realize she’s blurting out a question until it’s too late “You had a child?” The brunette’s eyes bulge. Not that she’d been expecting anything of what she’d just been told, but **_this_** definitely came as a shock.

Natasha gives her a curt nod. “The baby was a stillborn. I fought under KGB’s orders until the water broke, I was still very much under their influence, the glitch was too tiny still to have an immediate effect, but that changed considerably right after I delivered,” she explains. She is very aware of the fact that the baby’s death was not her fault and that there was nothing she could have done. She’s never even imagined herself as a mother because she’s sure she’d be horrible and her job doesn’t permit such thing, but she still feels the guilt of killing her own child as if it had just happened. “I learned, much later that the baby was condemned from the beginning,” she admitted. “The serum that gives me inhuman longevity also prevents me from carrying anything but stillborns. I suppose it’s KGB’s wicked idea of contraception, since sex is in the job’s description. It’s mother Russia’s secret weapon, that’s why women spies are so valuable to them,” Natasha murmurs, hurting. “A Slovak woman and her family helped me deliver the baby. I buried her near the Dobročsky forest and they helped me through that, to get back on my feet. I had too many conflicts in my mind and I started to question everything, they provided me with shelter and food without being invasive. I went back every year on the baby’s birthday until the woman died. Then I just stopped going. I suppose it coincided with the time I finally was able to dismantle the web of lies KGB had implanted in my mind. It took me several years to finally remember everything and pursue leads to confirm facts. By this time it wasn’t KGB controlling me, I was the one making poor decisions. Every death during those years… is entirely on me,” Natasha says, retrieving her hand from Skye’s. She’s just reminding herself of how tainted she really is and how she has no right to be spilling her red all over Skye.

“Anyway,” Natasha lets out in a breath. “The day my daughter died marked the end of my life with KGB. Until very recently…”

Skye’s eyes snap wide open at the words. “What do you mean?” she asks, alarmed.

“I’m not one of them,” Natasha reassures. “But it’s come to my attention that the program I thought had been shut down, resurfaced in 2004 under the name of Project 2R. Every 8 years they activate the new spies, terminate the ones who proved not to be good enough to meet the Agency’s demands and then they bring a new group of girls. They’re already training the second batch of kids, but it’s early enough to save them from that life, there’s still hope they can find a home away from that place.”

“You mean the Red Room is still active?” Skye asks, appalled.

Natasha nods. “I’m working with Barton to shut it down for good,” she explains, her hands closing into fists and her jaw clenching. She’s going to do everything in her power to destroy the facilities and every file, name or person that could possibly be used to restart the project. “They’re just kids. Kids that have already lost too much, who have no families, who aren’t missed. No one will look out for them, they’re just at KGB’s mercy, as I once was. I have a lot of red in my ledger I need to wipe. I don’t want them to be me someday. We’re going to free them from being used and controlled, give them a chance to make their own choices and live a normal, happy life. We’ll restore their identities and find them safe families.”

“Natasha,” Skye starts, her voice laced in concern.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Natasha smiles slightly. “I’m alright,” she reassures.

“Are you?” Skye questions. “I mean… What happened… with me,” she hesitates. “It has something to do with what happened to you, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not going to affect my focus.”

“I don’t doubt your skills Natasha,” Skye says, jumping out of bed. She hesitates but eventually crouches in front of the spy, resting her hands on her knees. “Are you sure you’re ready to be confronted with that place all over again? I get it. I get it that it’s something you need to do but what happens if you…”

“If I snap?” Natasha smirks.

Skye shrugs. “I was going to say, if you go into an involuntary killing spree but that works.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Natasha tells Skye. “I didn’t tell you all that for you to start freaking out about everything.”

“Sorry.” Natasha is right. She can’t all of a sudden feel like she can question Natasha’s decisions. Certainly she knows what she’s doing, plus she has an ally working with her. “Damn…I hope you destroy them,” Skye lets out, anger building up as she moves yet again to sit on the bed, next to the spy.

“Me too.”

Natasha’s eyes are bright with venom. If there’s something she really wants to do is to save those kids from that hellhole, save them from becoming monsters, from ever having to come to that realization themselves, from being violated and controlled in the most degrading ways. She’s going to shut the red room for good and maybe then she’ll be able to find some peace.

“What are you thinking?” Skye whispers, looking at the older woman to and noticing the severe frown, indicating she’s in deep thought.

Natasha straightens her back and licks her lips, trying to decide how to voice what she’s feeling.

“Everyone assumes that because I’m a trained assassin and spy that I’m no good. I wasn’t any good for the first part of my life, but then I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and I thought I was going straight. I was using my skills for the benefit of the good guys. Yet, even then, people kept thinking the same of me. Everyone’s always been so afraid of me, even at the academy no one dared to train with me. Actually no one dared training at the same time as I trained – as if I was going to snap and break their necks. They saw me, not as one of their own, but as the Russian spy and assassin. And why shouldn’t they? I have more kills associated to my name than I care to count. It’s not that I didn’t know I wasn’t good, it’s just that when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I thought I’d be the only one knowing it. They all saw me for what I am though and if they did, how couldn’t I?” she admits, her voice failing her just barely. “I don’t want to admit the possibility that one day those kids could feel this corrupted.”

“It doesn’t matter what people think of you, Natasha. **You** have to believe first that you’re more than what you were forced to believe in,” Skye tries to reason with her.

Natasha shakes her head, looking at Skye through guilty eyes. “I wasn’t always forced, Skye. I was killing by the time I was 12. I was made to do it then, I was programmed to. It’s in my nature. I’m a killer. When I went rogue it was my decision to kill, those were my standards. I could have found a way to restrain myself but I still killed. I killed innocents on my own. I still kill now, for S.H.I.E.L.D., but I’m a killer nonetheless…”

“You have a good heart though,” Skye doesn’t hesitate to say even though she could tell it was somewhat unnerving to the spy. “Just listen to yourself, Natasha. The kids are your priority. When you said you wanted to shut that place down, it wasn’t because of what they did to you, it wasn’t revenge. It’s because you know they are hurting children. That was your first concern. You’re looking out for them,” Skye tells her. Her heart is beating fast, matching her increasing conviction. “So you see? It’s a lie when you say those kids have no one to protect them,” the brunette protests. “They have you,” she says softly, placing her hand over Natasha’s heart while maintaining eye contact. She desperately wants Natasha to stop belittling herself. “And anyway,” Skye raises her voice. “How can you say those were your standards? You must have been confused as fuck, trying to figure out on your own what was right, what was wrong, trying to decide what was your will and was KGB’s implanted will. What really matters is that you made it here and regardless of your past, you’re doing some real good now. Right now you’re not Agent Romanoff, you’re not a spy, you’re not an assassin and you’re not Black Widow. You’re just Natasha.” Skye pauses for a moment to grab Natasha’s hand because she knows it’s the only place where it won’t be too invasive to touch. She squeezes the spy’s hand and pulls on her arm to make Natasha look at her. “You’re just Natasha,” she repeats when their eyes lock. “And you’re here with me and your eyes tell me you’re hurt, that you regret it, that’d you’d take everything back if you could, if it had been your honest choice to begin with.”

“My eyes are deceitful,” Natasha says out of instinct with a hint of annoyance.

“Not to me. Natasha, you didn’t want to kill innocents, you were made to think you did! It wasn’t your fault, do you understand that? Because that’s what I see and you have to give yourself a break and accept it. Stop trying to convince me you’re dirty,” Skye says, grabbing the spy’s hand once more when she pulls away.  “I don’t care what you do with other people but I know you’re not deceitful with me. And there’s a reason for that. You want to start living. You should try to let some of these walls go. When you start trusting, as you’re doing with me, everyone else will too. They’ll see there’s so much good in you, Tasha,” Skye whispers. “That you’re so beautiful.”

“Maybe I’m fine with you, Rogers and Barton as my buddies.” Natasha shrugs.

Skye raises her eyebrow knowingly. Now the spy is just contradicting herself and Skye realizes this is probably what she means when she says she doesn’t know herself. She’s still trying to sort her feelings, she’s still trying to define herself, fluctuating between her own opinions of herself. “You’re not fine knowing everyone is always afraid of you, making excuses to not be next to you. No matter how strong you are, no matter how skilled you are at seeming unaffected, it gets to you. It would get to anyone. Everyone needs to feel wanted.”

“Do you?” Natasha fires back. “Feel wanted,” she adds.

Skye knows Natasha’s being defensive and that their conversation is nearing its end. And that’s alright with her, she knows Natasha pushed through a huge barrier by letting her in the way she did. Skye knows she can’t take this interaction lightly, she knows it means everything. So, even though she’s honestly taken by surprise by the question, she doesn’t shy away from answering.

“There was a time I didn’t,” she starts. “I spent nearly half my life being tossed around with labels plastered on my forehead. I was the problem kid. The kid no family wanted. I was never good enough for anyone. Then I ran, I learned CS and I was so good at it I erased myself, any trace of my existence, and I went on the run. I joined people I shouldn’t have, I made every mistake I could have done, but ultimately this team found me. I feel like I belong here. And there’s a part of me that is still afraid they’ll leave me, but I try not to think about it. I don’t know about feeling wanted but I feel like they really care.”

Natasha nods. She can certainly understand that.

“I care too,” Natasha tells her in a throaty whisper.

Skye smiles. “I know that,” it’s a simple acknowledgment, but she doesn’t want to make the redhead feel self-conscious. The whole “feelings thing” is hard, she knows by experience.

“Good,” Natasha says, nudging the younger woman playfully with her shoulder.

“I know they’ll care about you too, Natasha.” Skye isn’t lying. She knows the team will embrace Natasha just as easily as they embraced her if she just shows them some trust. Even just a small hint.

Natasha smirks. “Please, Fitz-Simmons look like they could pee their pants every time I so much as glance at them.”

“In their defense you really do have a mean face when you want to,” Skye teases. “Be gentle,” she says in a more serious tone. “You’re acting all mean on purpose, drop the mask a little. Do something nice for them. I’m pretty sure soon you won’t be a threat. They’ll feel safer than ever with you around. Don’t be afraid to lose the walls just a tiny bit and they’ll look after you too.”

Natasha ponders. “Do you feel safe with me around?”

Skye smiles, squeezing Natasha’s hand. “Like no one can hurt me.”

“I’ll never allow that.”

Skye tries not to look at the meaning in terms of the future, but she still can’t help it but smile at the promise. “I know Tasha.”

“You know… I’m not invincible. Rogers has saved my life more than once.”

“No one expects you to be invincible. You don’t have to make up for anything. You’re doing the right thing now. You are not in debt to anyone and you don’t have anything to prove, nor are you responsible for keeping me safe.”

Natasha smiles playfully. “Can you believe I was his first kiss in decades?”

There it was, the complete change in topic.

Skye looks surprised. “Is he a good kisser? He looks like he might be,” she says, amused.

Natasha shrugs. “I did most of the kissing, he just tried not to feed me his heart through his mouth.”

Skye chuckles. “That bad?”

Natasha shakes her head, smiling and finally gaining the courage to really look at Skye, now that the tension was dissipating. “He was nervous,” she says. “I thought it was cute. It’s not like it was that bad, he just needed practice.”

“Well… did you help him practice?” Skye asks with a smirk.

“Not that I didn’t suggest that,” the spy lets out with a grin. “But Rogers is too proper. He’s still trying to adapt to the new world. Honestly, that was sort of a turn on. He’s pure, he’s not tainted…”

Skye understood what Natasha meant. She thought the Captain was the complete opposite of her, having parts of the person she’d like to be. “So why didn’t you lure him? I’m pretty sure you could have if you wanted,” she continued the banter. It was easy to just follow along. It was comfortable.

“Same reason I don’t lure you.”

Skye tilts her head and squints her eyes. “Why is that?” she asks slowly, again choosing to ignore the possible deeper meaning of that statement. She wonders if Natasha realized what she said.

“I respected him because he was so kind and genuine. He didn’t deserve to be manipulated into something I knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with just because I wanted to try him. I teased him for sure, but I left him alone. It was funnier to make him uncomfortable anyway. Cap is a good one.”

Skye purses her lips. She’s very unsure how to interpret what has been said.

“So you’re basically just saying you wanted to fuck the Captain?” Skye asks bluntly.

Natasha nods, shrugging. “Just sex,” she clarifies. “But the Cap doesn’t just have fun and let go. He’s not like that. He deserved better than me wanting to just test a toy.”

Again, Skye is very blunt, completely disregarding what Natasha just said. “So are you basically saying you want to fuck… _me_ too?” she asks slowly.

“I wanted to, yes,” Natasha replies without hesitation. She’s the expert in bluntness contrary to what she probably made Skye believe.

“Wanted?” Skye presses, blushing.

“Same reasons as Cap,” Natasha explains. “I liked what I saw, I was intrigued and I wanted to test the toy,” she says simply. “Except I started seeing you as more than a toy,” Natasha admits.

“I feel like I should be really offended, yet at the same time I can’t,” Skye says with laugh and a frown. “And at the same time I feel like I really have no idea what to say about that.”

“Well, how about we let you figure that one out by yourself?” Natasha suggests, dropping a gentle kiss on Skye’s forehead. The brunette just gives her a small nod and they fall into a comfortable silence, Skye’s mind being a lot more in overdrive than Natasha’s. Between everything that’s been said and the heaviness she suddenly feels in her chest, she feels like she will have a lot to process.


End file.
